


Mail Call

by TheTriggeredHappy



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Ambiguous Teams, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, mail, scout is dumb as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 23:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19799632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTriggeredHappy/pseuds/TheTriggeredHappy
Summary: Scout shows up with Sniper’s mail, and then doesn't stop showing up.[[writing practice, trying to limit a story to a singular specific location]]





	Mail Call

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Почта](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790848) by [drhurma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drhurma/pseuds/drhurma)



> [[thanks to arin and the other folks in the discord for helping me with a specific part of this, y’all are the mvps]]

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Ay, mail call!”

Sniper looked up at the door from his place reading the paper at his tiny little table. He hesitated for a second, then quickly stood and pulled on an undershirt.

When he opened the door, his surprise visitor had his fist raised as if to knock again.

“Oh, hey!” Scout feigned a smooth recovery from his obvious surprise. “Got your mail.”

Sniper glanced down at the package in Scout’s other hand, then back at his face. “My mail?”

“Yeah. We usually hand it out at breakfast on Sunday, but it’s like, noon, and you didn’t pick it up yet, and it’s got like the stamp that means there’s food or somethin’ in here so Hardhat told me to just bring it out to you since sometimes you just skip picking up mail and stuff and the guys’ll sometimes just kinda steal packages if there’s food in ‘em—“

Sniper cut him off by just reaching out and taking the package. He glanced over the address, and although there was nowhere marked for where to return, he recognized the handwriting. Something from his mum. A rarity. He didn’t get packages very often. “Ah. Right.”

There was a pause for a few seconds. “Yeah,” Scout said, nodding, half to himself. “Uh, anyways, that’s. Yeah, that’s all.”

Sniper nodded. There was a pause. “Er, thank you,” he said after a moment, suddenly remembering his manners and feeling guilty.

Scout shifted on his feet, tugging on the brim of his cap. “No—no problem,” he replied just as awkwardly.

Another pause.

“Uh, later,” Scout said, and gave a nervous little wave, and was gone again.

Sniper opened his mouth to reply with his own goodbye, but hesitated just a bit too long, and then Scout was too far away. He wound up just closing his door.

Inside the box was some jam from back home. Not particularly perishable, but you could never be too careful.

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Yo, mail call!”

This time Scout caught him asleep, albeit not when he intended to be. He’d gotten up for the morning, made coffee, sat down, and promptly fallen asleep before he could have a single sip of it. His waking was accompanied by a headache.

He just barely remembered to stuff his arms into the sleeves of his work shirt before opening the door, and only because it was directly in his line of sight.

“Whot?” Sniper half-rasped, blinking blearily at Scout, glad that the sun was coming from the other direction and not in his eyes just yet.

“Like I said,” Scout shrugged, holding out a few envelopes to him. “Mail call.”

Sniper took them, glanced at them, raised eyebrows at Scout, cleared his throat to speak. “Not exactly a perishable package,” he said. “Could’ve picked this up next week if I stop by.”

Scout frowned. “Ain’t that the envelope Miss P sends when she’s got a contract for you guys?” he asked hesitantly.

Sniper paused, looked down at one of the envelopes again. “Er. Right. Yeah, it is.” His brain wasn’t quite functioning enough to piece together what that meant just yet.

After a second Scout decided to help him out. “Means you gotta reply like, real soon. Mission might be the end of the week, might be tomorrow,” he supplied carefully.

Sniper had to clear his throat a bit again, and rubbed his eye with the back of the hand holding the envelopes. “How d’you know that? Didn’t think you get missions,” Sniper said. “Not solo, ‘least.”

“Yeah, usually don’t. I know what the envelopes look like, though,” Scout shrugged.

Sniper nodded. “Right,” he said. He fought back a yawn for a second, but finally just gave in.

“Dude, gonna mess up your sleep schedule if you keep breaking it on Sundays,” Scout said, looking at him a bit oddly.

Sniper waved him off. “Didn’t mean to sleep,” he said. “I’ll go wake up now. Thank you for bringin’ the mail.”

“No problem,” Scout said, mimicking his motion and waving him off as well, turning to leave. “Later!”

Sniper very nearly managed to actually reply that time, but a yawn caught him again.

Maybe next time, he thought, then chided himself because there almost certainly wouldn’t _be_ a next time.

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Mail!”

“Comin’,” Sniper sighed, pushing himself free of his latest little project carefully, making sure not to spill any of the boxes of bullets as he got up.

It took a good few moments, but Scout didn’t look impatient when Sniper finally opened the door, just distracted by something skittering through the dirt a few dozen meters away. His attention snapped back up to Sniper right away, though.

“Alright, where’s the fire, then?” Sniper asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The range,” Scout said, handing Sniper a few envelopes.

Sniper frowned, carefully taking them.

“The fire, it’s in the range, out on the other side’a base,” Scout repeated. “Pyro’s, uh, decided to make a bonfire again. All freaked out about somethin’. We had to rescue all the burnables from the common room an’ kitchen before Pyro raided anythin’. Figured I might as well just bring you these, instead’a kidnapping them.”

Sniper considered the information for a second, then shrugged. “Fair enough. Thanks, then.”

“No problem,” Scout said, turning and headed to walk off again.

“Er,” Sniper started hesitantly, and Scout stopped, half turned, looked at Sniper over his shoulder. Sniper considered whether he should say the next sentence on his mind or not. After a moment he decided against it. “Actually, nevermind. Just, thank you.”

“For real, no problem,” Scout repeated, and kept walking again.

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Maaaaaail!"

“Whyyyyyyyy,” Sniper shouted back, mimicking his tone. He was in the middle of shaving, but just wiped the worst of the remaining foam from his face with a towel and moved the step and a half to the door.

Scout was scuffing his shoes on the dirt, looking a little flustered even before he looked up and saw Sniper’s vague irritation. “Okay, so I’ll admit, this isn’t the best reason for a mail delivery,” he said off the bat.

“That right?” Sniper asked, admittedly a bit sharply.

“Okay, hear me out though—“ Scout said quickly, holding his hands up in half-surrender. “So I’m in the kitchen and Hardhat comes in with the mail, like he does, because it comes in with the rest of his supplies and the machinery parts that he gets on order, right? And he’s handin’ it out and goin’ down the line in team order and he gets to your mail and he just kinda goes, “Hey Scout”—and I’m just kinda paraphrasing here—“Hey Scout, since you keep bringing that guy his mail anyways, you’d be okay just takin’ his mail over to him now, right?” and I go to say, “Uh, no,” because you don’t like people comin’ out here to bug you—“

“Correct,” Sniper mumbled, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I know, I know, so that’s why I tried to go “uh, no”, but I had my mouth full because it’s breakfast, right? So I guess Engie heard me go “mm-hmm” instead, so he says thanks and just hands me the mail, and everyone was lookin’ at me and saw it happen, and I don’t wanna look like some asshole, and just leave it on the counter when they all just saw me agree to take it over, because they’re all kinda pissed at me right now anyways because I _allegedly_ broke the screen glass door with a baseball again, so.” He pulled the brim of his cap down, effectively hiding his very red face, and held the mail out. “So here I am. And here’s your mail.”

Sniper took a long moment before he accepted the mail, taking it and flipping through the few envelopes he had there. “Thank you,” he finally said, deciding to cut Scout some slack. “I appreciate it. You just caught me at a bad time is all.”

“Yeah, I’ll, I’ll let you get back to your thing,” Scout said, keeping his head down and turning to leave.

“Oi,” Sniper said after a moment, and Scout looked back. “Truckie’s jokes aside, _would_ you mind just... bringin’ my mail out to me?”

Scout perked up a little. “Really?”

Sniper shrugged. “It’s the only reason I’d drop by the base regardless. Figured if you’re runnin’ about doin’ errands anyways, it’d be convinient.”

“Hell yeah, man, I never have shit to do today anyways,” Scout all but chirped, lighting up.

“Thanks, mate,” Sniper said, and gave a little nod, and ducked back inside.

“Later!” Scout called just before the door closed.

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Mail!”

It was a regular thing now. Every Sunday, at most five minutes early and at worst ten minutes late, Scout would show up and knock and Sniper would open the door and Scout would greet him and Sniper would take the mail from his hands and they’d each say something and then Scout would leave and Sniper would forget to say goodbye.

He opened the door.

“Mornin’,” Scout chirped, and held out the mail.

Sniper took it. “Right on time,” he said, almost like a joke, glancing at his watch.

“Hey, that’d be a first,” Scout said, also almost like a joke, albeit an incorrect one, considering Scout did always show up at very nearly the same time. “Maybe I’m gettin’ better at this.”

“Maybe,” Sniper agreed.

And Scout gave a little mock-salute, and he was headed off back towards the base at a jog.

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Package for a Mr. Sniper!"

That made Sniper raise eyebrows, even before the door was open, but there really was.

“Huh,” he said, brows falling into a furrow.

It was big enough that Scout had to use both arms, and had the two envelopes stacked on top precariously. “Yeah, I dunno. Not as heavy as it looks, so I dunno what the hell’s in here,” Scout said. “But, uh, here you go.”

Sniper took the box, and frowned at the weight. “Funny idea of “not heavy”,” he gritted out, lugging it through the door and putting it on the ground.

“Hey, I said _as it looks_. Looks like it should be way heavier,” Scout protested.

“Either way. Sorry, mate, wasn’t expecting a set of weights to come in for me. Would’ve picked this up myself if you asked,” he said when he turned back around.

“Eh. I don’t mind.” Scout adjusted his cap. “Hey, any idea what’s in those though?”

“Camping gear, maybe? It’d be in way early if so, though,” Sniper said, bending to look at the label. “Wish it was somethin’ interesting, but, looks like it’s not. Sorry, mate.”

“Shit, camping?” Scout asked, blinking. “You go camping? And not just in, like, that way that Soldier calls you out for all the time where you sit in one spot and don’t move for like an hour?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“God, I’ve always wanted to go camping. Nowhere good to go out on the east coast, and we didn’t have a good car or the time or whatever growin’ up anyways.”

“All cities out there, yeah? Noise an’ light pollution?” Sniper asked.

“Yeah! And, I mean, I like the city, got everything you need right up close to each other and all that crap, never get bored, always somethin’ to do, somewhere to go. But I’ve heard campin’ is fun.”

“Don’t think it’d be your speed, mate,” Sniper warned. “Lot of bugs and quiet and trees and not much else. No walls for you to bounce between when you get bored.”

Scout shifted on his feet. “I mean, can’t be _that_ boring, or else why would people do it?” he asked.

Sniper shrugged. “Peace an’ quiet. Calm. Fresh air.”

Scout considered that for a second. “...Alright, maybe you’ve got a point,” he admitted. “Maybe no camping.”

“Maybe not.” A pause. “Thanks for the package.”

“Thanks for the advice. See ya!”

And Scout was away.

* * *

_Knock knock._

Sniper frowned.

Admittedly, he’d lost track of time, and was surprised when he looked at his watch and saw that it was a good half an hour after the time that Scout usually delivered mail. And he already knew that something had to be up, even before he opened the door and saw Demo standing there instead of Scout.

“Hey there,” Demo said cheerfully, holding out a few envelopes. “Got yer mail for ya.”

Sniper hesitantly took the mail. “Where’s... where’s Scout?” he slowly asked.

“Ah, the boy’s bedridden,” Demo said, looking off towards the base. “Flu, the Doctor says. Off in quarantine until the worst of it passes.”

“Really?” Sniper asked, frowning further.

“Yeah. I dropped by to bring ‘im a hot meal an’ to ask if there’s anything the boy needed, he jus’ yammered that he needed ta’get let out to bring your mail. Can’t even stand, and the boy says it with a straight face an’ all.

Sniper huffed. “Tell ‘im to quit worrying about my bloody mail and to focus on getting better,” he said, a little sharply.

“I don’t remember the part where I agreed to be your messenger, mate,” Demo said, lip quirking, giving what was probably a wink, or maybe just blinking and tilting his head at the same time.

Sniper relaxed incrementally. “Ah. Sorry, I, I can... tell ‘im myself—“

Demo laughed, hitting him lightly on he arm. “I’m just pullin’ your leg, y’bloody hermit!” he exclaimed. “I’ll pass along the message, don’t you worry. I’ll make sure to tell ‘im you were right worried about ‘im, too.”

Sniper exhaled. “Right. Thanks, mate. You’re a saint. I owe you one.”

“Owe me nothin’,” Demo said cheerfully, clapping him on the shoulder before headed off again.

Nice bloke, Sniper thought to himself.

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Mail!”

Sniper opened the door, half-smiling. “Look who’s back in action,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Scout said, holding out the stack of envelopes. “I wasn’t even that sick, Doc is a lunatic. You saw me on the field right after, I didn’t need the lockdown.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That why when Demo dropped by, he told me you couldn’t even stand?” he asked.

Scout crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, so maybe I was kinda achy, big deal,” he said stubbornly. “I’ve been sick before, I was fine!”

“Those were his exact words, “couldn’t stand” and all,” Sniper said, tilting his head just slightly.

Scout was going red. “Well, big deal!” he repeated.

Sniper rolled his eyes. “Mate, really, it’s alright,” he laughed. “The mail wasn’t the worry. Next time just get your rest, the paper can wait.”

Scout deflated. “Whatever. There’s not gonna be a next time, neither!” He started walking towards the base, turning back again after a few steps. “And I wasn’t sick the first time!”

“Sure thing, mate. Sure.”

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Mail call!”

Sniper didn’t sit up or move from his place on his little cot. He took a moment to glance at his watch through tired eyes, then let his arm flop back down.

These... whatever they were, these slumps, always seemed to happen during the winter. He didn’t know why. And he was a little annoyed that it was already setting in so early in the morning, but mostly just upset with himself that it was apparently going to be breaking the routine of mail call.

Oh well.

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Hey, mail’s here!”

He imagined that Scout would give up shortly, leave the mail on the stoop and move along. Such was his attention span, generally preferring to get things done as quickly and efficiently as possible so he could move on to the next thing that was on his mind, sometimes before he’d even finished the first task.

He wondered when he would be getting up to get the mail when Scout did leave it and go. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t even care about the envelopes that much.

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Sniper, c’mon, man! I know you’re in there! Nowhere the hell else that you’d be!”

C’mon, Sniper thought to himself, just give it up and go away already. Go on.

_Knock, knock-knock, knock-knock-knock._

A pause.

_Knock knock knock knock knock KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK—_

_“What?!”_ Sniper finally called, voice hoarse.

“Mail!” Scout called cheerfully.

Sniper exhaled heavily, standing unsteadily, blinking a few times as his vision swam. Maybe from not eating in a while, or dehydration. He didn’t care.

Scout’s self-congratulatory grin faded the moment Sniper opened the door.

Silence. Sniper held a hand out for the mail.

“Woah, are you okay?” Scout asked, expression sinking.

“Fine,” Sniper rasped, holding his hand out even a little further.

Scout moved to hold the mail down towards his side. “You don’t look fine.”

“M’just feeling under the weather is all. Don’t worry about it,” Sniper mumbled.

“Under the weather how?” Scot asked, glancing him up and down. “You... you need me to go grab Medic?”

“Just...” Sniper shook his head. “Just, don’t worry about it. I’ll live.”

Scout hesitated, holding the mail up in front of him again but not handing it over. “Uh... I don’t wanna be weird, but, do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” Sniper said. He focused on taking a breath, releasing it again. “Just...”

Scout didn’t hand the mail to him for another few moments, just looked him over again. Thought hard about something. Then finally, he handed the two envelopes to Sniper, who took them.

“Thanks,” Sniper mumbled, and shut the door.

Five minutes later, Sniper was right back into the emotional muck.

_Knock, knock-knock._

Sniper sighed heavily, stood and returned to the door.

He frowned at Scout as he processed what he was looking at.

“Figured if you were feeling down, you probably didn’t make breakfast or nothin’,” Scout said without waiting for Sniper to talk, and held out the plastic container. “So, I grabbed the leftovers. Should still be hot.”

Sniper carefully took the container, looked at it, looked at Scout.

“Just oatmeal, nothin’ fancy, the guys already ate everything else,” Scout continued when Sniper didn’t speak, rocking on his heels. “And I didn’t know how hungry you were, so I didn’t grab any apples or granola bars or nothin’. But I can go get those if you don’t think that’ll be enough, it’ll take like, two minutes.”

Sniper looked at him, mouth working wordlessly for a few seconds. “You didn’t need to do this,” he finally managed.

Scout shrugged. “Not a problem. So, that a yes or no to the more food?”

Sniper considered the container for a few moments, maybe longer than would generally be necessary. But his mind was still foggy, and there was hesitance settled behind his sternum that wouldn’t go away.

“Yes, please, if you... don’t terribly mind,” Sniper finally managed.

Scout smiled. “No problem! Be right back!”

And he was off at a hard jog.

Sniper left the door open.

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

No greeting. Sniper stood and moved to the door, lying the magazine aside, a bit confused.

Scout was rocking on his feet, and his head whipped up when the door opened. “Uh, hey!” he said, pretty quickly. “Okay, so, this is a weird one—“

Sniper settled his shoulder against the doorframe, both eyebrows rising.

“Uh. So these days Hardhat just puts your mail on the counter, and I grab it when I’m done with breakfast and I head over here, and I was like the last one done today, right? And, uh, there was this one envelope right on top, which was pretty weird. And, I dunno what the hell it is? But here you go.”

Sniper took the envelopes, looking at the one Scout was talking about. It was visibly different than the others, a different shape and no stamp, addressed in shaky handwriting “to Sniper”.

Sniper hummed, moving inside far enough to toss the other envelopes onto the table and returning wth the odd one, starting to open it, trying his best to keep from ripping it in the process.

His eyebrows shot up as he pulled the paper from it. It was red paper—construction paper—cut in the shape of a heart.

He looked up at Scout to gauge a reaction. Scout glanced between Sniper and the paper, expression odd, ears red.

Sniper opened the paper up, glancing over the contents, blinking as he read them over. “It says, “Will you go out with me,”” Sniper started to read aloud. “And below that, it says, “A.) yes, B.) A, C.) B,” and “E.) All of the above. From, Secret admirer”. With admirer spelled “ad-mirror”. And random capitalization.”

Scout’s flush was spreading across his face. “Oh, weird,” Scout said, keeping his voice light.

Sniper tried very hard not to laugh. “Well, seems they’ve made a mistake,” he said evenly.

Scout’s gaze shot up, glancing over Sniper’s expression quickly. “Uh, what?”

“Secret admirer and all,” Sniper said, holding up the paper for emphasis for a moment. “Maybe too secret. How am I supposed to give an answer if I don’t know who it is?”

The flush spread down Scout’s neck. “Oh. Huh.” A pause. His voice was tight when he next spoke, eyes locked somewhere around Sniper’s shoulder. “Yeah, that’s, uh. That’s a pretty stupid mistake. What kinda, what kinda idiot would fuck up like that? Bet they... feel real stupid right about now. Should’a... thought this through better probably.”

“Yeah. What a shame.” Sniper put the card back in the envelope. “Wish we knew who it was.”

“Yeah,” Scout agreed, staring off into the desert. “Sure wish.”

“Thanks for the mail,” Sniper said, trying so very hard not to laugh.

“Yeah, no problem.” And Scout wandered back toward the base, head hanging.

He almost felt bad. Almost.

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Hey-o!”

Sniper opened the door, and they were both quiet for a few seconds.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Scout started.

“Scout.”

“I know, I get it, I know what you’re gonna say—“

“Scout.”

“—and it’s totally fair of you to say, you’re gonna say to me—“

“Scout, where is the mail?”

“—yeah I forgot the mail on the counter,” Scout said, both arms completely empty at his sides, rising in a mock surrender. “And I realized it literally the second before you opened the door. Here’s the thing, though, it isn’t about the mail!”

“I... _cannot_ believe you.”

“Yeah, I’m... I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m not mad, I’m just, I’m genuinely astonished.” Sniper leaned his shoulder on the door frame, crossing his arms. “You forgot the mail. The reason you come out here once a week. You left it behind. And didn’t once notice.”

Scout buried his face in his hands. “Alright, I get it!”

“You, I won’t even ask you to get it and bring it back, because I really don’t mind that much, I’m just... Scout, _how_ did you manage that?”

“Shut up! Fuckin’, whatever! I’m leavin’!” Scout started stomping off towards the base, and Sniper broke, starting to laugh.

“Just remember it next week, if you don’t mind!” he finally called. Scout didn’t turn around, just flipping him a double bird over his shoulders.

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Mail call! Package!”

Sniper stood up, interest already piqued.

Scout only had one envelope in his hand, the other holding a small package. “Perishables, apparently,” he said as Sniper took the box and looked it over. “No address.”

Sniper raised an eyebrow, holding the box a bit away from himself as he cracked it open. He looked down at the contents, eyebrows rising further.

“Chocolate?” he said slowly, tipping the box around to examine the candy inside.

“Oh, neat,” Scout said, not sounding nearly surprised enough to be convincing.

Sniper raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, that’s a shame.”

His expression fell. “Huh? What is?”

“That it’s wrapped the way it is. That’d be easy to rewrap without looking suspicious. Especially without a return address or note for

the sender, I can’t be sure who it’s from, whether it’s someone’s attempt to poison me. Unless you think you know who it’s from? Someone on the team?”

Scout started pouting to himself. “I dunno,” he mumbled. “Not sure.”

“Oh well,” Sniper shrugged, and dropped the box into the bin next to his door. “What a shame.”

“Yeah. Real shame,” Scout agreed, and started back towards the base.

* * *

_Knock, knock-knock._

“Delivery.”

Later than usual, but otherwise unremarkable. A string of a few weeks of perfectly normal mail days had lulled Sniper back into a sense of security.

That’s why Sniper was surprised when he opened the door.

“...What’s this, then?” Sniper asked, looking over the scene in front of him.

Scout’s face was practically hidden behind the bulk of the items in his arm. It was a mass of flowers, what seemed to be mostly daisies with others sprinkled in.

“Alright, I’m, I’m just gonna cut the bullshit, okay?” he practically stammered, not making eye contact with Sniper. “I’m the one who sent you the letter, the, the weird letter thing, and the chocolates, and I was kinda makin’ excuses to come bring you your mail and to talk to you before it became a regular thing, and, and I don’t wanna be weird or nothin’ but I thought since all those other times kinda blew up in my face that I should just quit dickin’ around and just say it instead’a—“

“I know,” Sniper cut in.

Scout’s head whipped up. “What?”

“I knew about the letter.” He drummed his fingers against his arm. “And the chocolate. And I guessed about the “making excuses” nonsense.”

Scout’s face was red. He clutched the flowers tighter. “Wait, you knew?!”

“Guessed,” Sniper shrugged.

“Well—“ Scout struggled to speak for a moment, downright flabbergasted. “Wh—y—w—how come you didn’t say anything?!”

Sniper shrugged again. “Thought it was funny.”

Scout set his jaw, glaring down at the flowers in his arms for a few moments, thinking hard. When he looked up again, there was nervousness in his eyes. “Well... does that mean... you _don’t_ want anythin’ to do with me? Or are you...?”

He allowed himself a smile. "Well, I asked if you'd like to just come down every week instead of letting you make more excuses, didn't I?"

Scout's eyes widened by a fraction. His mouth hung open.

Sniper laughed. “Just get in here,” he said, ticking his head back for Scout to follow as he stepped back into the camper, holding the door. “Before those start to wilt.”

Scout’s entire face lit up. “Wait, you mean—?”

“Yeah.” He smiled as Scout hopped up the steps to pass him. “And, just for the record, I can start getting my own mail if you don’t need the excuse to come visit.”

“Ha, not a chance!”

**Author's Note:**

> [[i love scout he’s a fuckin idiot
> 
> i’m still on tumblr, thetriggeredhappy]]


End file.
